


Exploring

by PapesseJohanna



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 08:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17863634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapesseJohanna/pseuds/PapesseJohanna
Summary: It wasn’t the first time Makoto and Akira had sex. It wasn’t the second. Nor the third. But sex is a tricky thing, and they were just getting to know each other.





	Exploring

**Author's Note:**

> Usual warning for explicit sexual language. This is porn, okay guys? Just... know what you're getting into.

It wasn’t the first time Makoto and Akira had sex. It wasn’t the second. Nor the third. But sex is a tricky thing, and they were just getting to know each other.

Makoto thought about how new and strange it was each time. Strange that, though all Akira did was brush his lips against her neck, she would feel the prickle of her skin travel down the small of her back. His hands would go from cupping her soft rosy cheeks down to the grooves of her neck; to the supple curve of her breasts. And without fail, a wave of numbing heat would ache from between her legs, and she would bite her lip down to muffle a barely suppressible moan.

This particular time, some of their school uniform stayed in their rush to get to know each other. Akira’s summer shirt had already been abandoned to the floor, crumpled up in a pile atop his bag. Makoto was a little bit slower. Her leggings had joined the pile mere seconds ago, but her blouse was only half undone, and her skirt remained steadfastly on her waist despite all the friction. 

But Makoto had accepted long ago that sex was no methodical thing, and sometimes there was excitement to going about it haphazardly, feeling for themselves in the dark of heady confusion.

Indeed, she felt for him. She felt for the surprising firmness of his arms; how they were toned and rough against her fingers. She enjoyed the weight of his body as he half-hovered atop her. She felt safe with her legs wrapping around him, pressing his warmth closer to hers.

Akira’s fingers were still fiddling with the remaining buttons of her blouse. His mouth was so close to her skin, she could feel his warm breaths caress the nape of her neck. Yet even his slow dithering movements couldn’t feel her own impatience. He fiddled around with a barely concealed haste, eventually snapping the buttons open until her blouse laid her upper half bare. Akira didn’t waste his time. Her bra went swiftly along with her blouse to the heaping pile left at the foot of her bed.

“Akira-kun,” she whimpered in surprise.

The way she said his name always elicited a soft laugh from him. At this point, there was no need to be so formal, but it was the sort of unerring politeness that he found so endearing.   

She made a move for his pants. Her fingers fumbled with undoing the button and the zipper in her rush.

“I want to try something,” he said. His voice was unexpectedly hoarse. Hovering over her, Akira could feel a mix of things ball up in his throat. He was nervous. Looking at her always made him nervous.

She lay beneath him, her usually and perfectly coiffed crop of hair spread out in all directions against her pillow. Her cheeks were flush with heat, and her red eyes were dulled by listlessness. Her chest rose and fell with tortured breaths. The sight of her, the softness of her. It was always then - in that moment of taking her in - that Akira felt an overwhelming need to hold her in his arms.

“What is it?” she asked, barely registering that he said anything. She felt him harden between her legs, against the fabric of their remaining clothing. Now - more than ever - she wished he would just tear off his pants and satisfy the ache welling inside of her.

Makoto loved the mess of his hair. It was always messy, but now it was tangled in knots. She instinctively reached up and combed her fingers through them, gently caressing his scalp during their little respite.

“I want to go down on you.” He announced it with unassuming candor. His visage was an unfazed mask, with only a hint of a telltale blush as the fleeting proof he said anything at all.

Despite herself, Makoto too felt herself redden. Her heart felt like it was ramming against her chest, ready to burst at his offer. It was in these moments when words - precious and reserved for moments of clear thinking - failed her. Instead, she could only nod as her body tensed up beyond her will.

They came into this with little to no experience beforehand. Everything they learned, they taught to each other, but the suggestion of oral sex carried with it a hint of daring seduction. Makoto had no idea how boys did their “research,” as it were. Even when they did it for the first time, Akira always came prepared with a plan of his own (unspoken as it was), touching her where she didn’t know she could be touched. 

“I -... um,” she stammered out. There was a coyness to her nervousness that she couldn’t control, but seeing his eyes follow the turns of her mouth, she knew he found it irresistible. It made her even more nervous. “I didn’t know boys like that.”

Makoto couldn’t name it. It was much too sinful. Just the thought of it left her feeling a little faint with excitement.

Akira looked at her with a puzzled expression. He seemed as if he wanted to ask her more of what _she_ thought boys thought, and if she had anymore urban legends about boys he could readily dispel. The prospect of it all made her beet red. Sure enough, Makoto felt she was burning.

“I want to,” Akira insisted. He shifted so their eyes were level, his hands wrapping around the small frame of her waist. Just to prove it to her, he grinded his hips against hers, letting her feel how he throbbed and ached; how he wanted her in every way, and how he hardened just at the thought of pleasing her. After all, he was foolishly in love. Even if his casual veneer masked it, Akira wanted to show her just how much he yearned to touch her; to caress her and know her body for all its secrets.

Makoto could only nod. She was incapable of speech. She couldn’t even watch as Akira began to lower himself. She felt his lips caress her shoulders and his thumb brush against her thighs. She felt sweat bead down her temple just when he reached her navel, where his mouth lavished her with soft, reassuring kisses.

But there was a clumsiness to it all too. Rather than attempt her skirt, he merely lifted the hem. What confidence Akira initially had vanished as he fussed over the edges of her panties. The frills of the hem confounded him, and he was deathly afraid of tearing the delicate fabric.

For her part, Makoto writhed where she lay, unsure what exactly took him so long.

Left to his own devices, Akira could only remove her underwear from where she lay. There was a suggestive sultriness as he unrolled the fabric from beneath her skirt. He could feel even more heat rush to his erection as his fingers dithered against the inside of her thighs. They were off of her legs before long, and Akira - who spoke with so much determination just mere seconds before - paused as he took in the barely concealed sight of her. 

He delayed by layering kisses against her thighs; relishing the soft edges of them; the warmth that grew hotter as he neared her center.

Makoto, who was half mortified and half reeling with euphoria, threw her arms up over her eyes. The last thing she saw was Akira’s head sink beneath her skirt, and it was enough to make her heart burst from her chest. The embarrassment she felt was heady and titillating - a confused mess between want and terror. 

Even though they’ve had sex before, neither had _really_ explored each other in the way Akira did to her now. He pressed his mouth against her folds as his arms locked around the back of her thighs. She could feel him move her towards him, or maybe, _she_ was doing the moving - writhing closer and closer as his lips gave way to his tongue.

Akira thought she was beautiful. She always was; always had been. It terrified him at times, just as her beauty provoked him to desire her with all he had. It was no different now as he took her in, feeling her heat against his mouth. He kissed and licked, half torn between one action and the other. In the recesses of his thoughts, Akira regretted the cursory look at online porn he gave the night before as an attempt at “research.” Their violent and exaggerated movements could barely explain what he felt or what he was doing. What he wanted was to have her - completely and wholly - without really knowing how. 

So he started with what he knew she liked. He kissed the supple softness of her center. Her skin down there was warmer and, based on Makoto’s own uncontrolled writhing, more sensitive. His tongue rolled lower, meeting the wetness of her clit just as Makoto let out a harsh moan.

She smelled strangely sweet. Like nectar kept away from the light. Layered with it were faint traces of fragrances left along her skin - the remnants, no doubt, of the shower she took before he came over. His tongue tasted the inside of her. She was honeyed sweat all over.

 Akira felt himself get drunk from all his motions, lathing gently just as he could stop himself from pushing further and further in.

“Akira!” 

Makoto was still in limbo, caught flush in numbing pleasure. She called out his name in desperation, for he made her feel empty and whole at the same time. The in-betweens were torturous. She wanted him. She wanted him to fill every part of her; she wanted the warmth of his cock just as his tongue pressed firmer against her clit and his lips played with her folds. He licked and lathed with a fervor that drew all the warmth of her body to that yearning center. 

“Please!” she mewled.

Her sounds alarmed him. Unsure, Akira looked up from where he worked, returning from the depths of her skirt. She saw in him that same puzzled and genuinely concerned expression that she loved.

“I’m sorry,” she said with sheepish embarrassment. “I didn’t mean-...” she stammered, trying to recollect herself. “I mean, I want you to keep going.”

Her words of demure assurance left him smiling. It was then, Makoto noticed, that Akira held her gaze as he teasingly licked his lips.

He wordlessly lowered himself without further ado, his head disappearing back beneath her skirt and between her thighs. Makoto could die from this confusing state of uncertain coyness.

Yet things were different this time. Moments before, Akira had played with her lips. He licked and lathed and kissed in teasing experimentation. But now, he went for her with a hunger that sent chills down her spine. Akira pressed his mouth against her clit, taking it in and sucking. The sounds of their flesh meeting in moist friction sent Makoto reeling. It took her all not to scream.

His motions sent lighting spearing through her body. She felt herself jolt and seize as his tongue pushed at her center. Her hips moved of their own accord, thrusting and pushing against his mouth for his delicious touch.

“Akira,” she repeated his name, but there was a softness to her voice that shook with that intoxicating uncertainty. The feeling of coming stopped up her throat. She felt her thighs seize as he lapped against her labia with an even more pressing hunger. Makoto felt numb; deliciously and feverishly numb. 

“Akira!”

The soft moan of his name came first, followed by heathenish tremors of orgasm that seized her hips as they jutted from her bed. Makoto could only hear the pounding of her heart in her chest, in her temples, in her ears… Her body was lost in thrilling confusion.

Akira emerged from between her thighs. There was a soft smile on his lips; a glossy, watery gleam in his eye. 

“Did you like that?”

His question was sincere yet teasing. Laughter seemed ready to rumble from his throat.

Makoto took the sight of him in; all of him in. It didn’t bother her that they were still practically half-dressed, and school had just ended an hour before. They were in bed, and she was beginning to catch her breath again. She hadn’t realized that her eyes were still closed. It felt like she was seeing in color all this time.

He took her satisfied and calm look as an answer. Akira settled himself next to her, nuzzling her neck and holding her in his arms. In truth, he was still erect and aching for her, but there was an inviting peacefulness to her countenance that he would never give up for anything. So he contented himself with her embrace, happy to breathe in the faint traces of her pleasure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hit the kudos or review button if you enjoyed this, you saucy minx.


End file.
